


Cover Me in Bruises

by ZammyShad



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Creampie, M/M, Marking, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, THIS IS SO MUCH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 10:41:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28469970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZammyShad/pseuds/ZammyShad
Summary: Z’ahzi stares him down, heat flushing his tanned skin. “You listenin’?”“No.” Kira starts, pink eyes gleaming in the low light. “Too busy thinking how pretty you’d look with some bruises on that neck of yours.”
Relationships: Warrior of Light/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Kudos: 17





	Cover Me in Bruises

“Don’t look so smug.”

Z’ahzi pouts, golden eyes sparkling with barely-concealed mirth. It’s the first time he’s spoken up since the doors had closed behind them, the space between Kira and him dwindling near immediately. There’s been an attraction, a string of something tying them together, since the moment they met, Z’ahzi’s typical cocky demeanor snagging the other’s attention. This was inevitable - Kira, pink hair loose across his face, the satin-like ends trailing across Z’ahzi’s skin as he brackets him in, tall and broad and much, _much_ bigger than the Miqo’te beneath him. Kira has never been quiet about his fondness of it, but now, in bed, the other man simply cannot contain his glee at the sight.

Z’ahzi stares him down, heat flushing his tanned skin. “You listenin’?”

“No.” Kira starts, pink eyes gleaming in the low light. “Too busy thinking how pretty you’d look with some bruises on that neck of yours.”

Fuck. Who talks like that?

Pinpricks of heat flow from the back of Z’ahzi’s spine to pool in his stomach, the sensations there flipping over each other and leaving him breathless. Kira coos, catching sight of the other’s parting lips and heavier pants, and immediately moves to do as he said before, slightly slick lips pressing delicate kisses to his neck. Z’ahzi whines, tilting his head to the side and exposing more skin for Kira to mark, shivering as the bigger man scrapes his teeth across the stark tendon of his throat, biting soon thereafter with a needy, hungry growl.

His teeth sink into Z’ahzi’s neck, and the blonde Miqo’te can’t help the stuttering, shaking exhale of _Kira!_

He doesn’t stop, sharp pressure and shocks of heat assaulting Z’ahzi’s senses. Over and over again, Kira bites into his skin, worrying at the small marks he makes until they’re much, _much_ larger, humming around mouthfuls as he sucks at the blossoming bruises. Z’ahzi’s cock grows hard, precum dribbling in fat droplets down his shaft with each claim, each purposeful mark as if to say _you’re mine._

An answering rumble, those same pink eyes flashing back into his vision. Z’ahzi’s ears flatten against his head, the other’s words swirling in the haze of his pleasure. “Huh?” He slurs, eyelids as heavy as the tongue that sticks to his teeth. “Did you say somethin’?”

Kira, between his legs, sneers, and for a moment Z’ahzi doesn’t understand why until, suddenly, there’s a slick hand at his hole, Kira’s fingers slowly, teasingly, circling his entrance.

“I said, darling,” Kira starts, delighting in the way the blonde man beneath him squirms, desperately pressing back into the touch to no avail. “You sure are.”

He presses in without pause, not even when Z’ahzi winces, muscles clenching around him. Instead, the other coos again, a loud rumbling purr echoing between them. Maybe it’s instinct, some sort of need to calm his partner as the press of his finger searches inside him, forcing his walls to slowly, achingly, relax. Or maybe it’s at the pitched drawl Z’ahzi can’t hold back, brows pinched upwards as his thighs shake, the scrape of Kira’s touch just barely passing against his prostate and sending countless curls of barely-there heat to wrap around his chest, his abdomen, his head. 

With the way Kira groans in response, he wouldn’t say no to both, actually.

Languidly, like they had all the time in the world to lay together, Kira pulls out from his willing body, his muscles fluttering against nothing. Z’ahzi gives a small rumble of confusion, eyes blinking open ( when had they closed? ) to stare blearily at his lover. Yet before a question can spring to his lips, the other Miqo’te splays his hand possessively across his slick abdomen, cock jumping at the touch so close to where he wants it the most. His abdomen clenches hard, flexing beneath him, and Kira sucks in a sharp breath at the sound. Z’ahzi can do naught but watch, rapt, as the other slides his fingers through the precum sticking to his skin, his hair, and idly touch finger and thumb together, watching clear strings break apart slowly as if appraising it.

Z’ahzi feels that heat again, suffusing his cheeks as a curl of embarrassment makes itself known. _Fuck._

Realization dawns on him as Kira returns back to his entrance, now-slick finger pushing in far easier than before. It must be too easy, because in the next few moments as Z’ahzi squirms from the need to touch himself ( or for Kira to touch him _better_ ) the pink-haired Miqo’te grins, pressing a second finger alongside the first and purposefully pressing against that one spot inside him that has his head thrashing.

“Kira!” Oh, his voice sounds wrecked already, shaking apart at the second syllable and dying off into a needy, half-sobbed whine. “ _Ohhh,_ fuck, Kira, please.”

“Please?”

“I need it,” Z’ahzi pants, pushing back against the slight burn of the stretch, another half-sob barely caught in his throat. “I need you.”

There’s a slight pause after that, and Z’ahzi fears he may have overstepped. It’s gone in a flash, however, when Kira growls and elicit something primal inside him, some need to bare his neck and submit. He’s already helpless, yet the noise strikes him to his core, the precum from before nothing in comparison to the wet he’s producing now, falling from his cockhead to make a mess in the dips of his abdomen, his hips, and trailing down his sides.

“Babydoll,” Gods, Kira has no right sounding like that, raspy and breathless and unhinged. “I’ll give you everything you need.”

_Yes, yes, yes, yes!_

Kira is relentless, fucking Z’ahzi with his fingers without care to the bitten-off cries of his name. Nor does the way Z’ahzi reaches up, tangling his fists in the sheets and using the leverage to arch his back, weight firmly planted on his shoulders as his hips roll, meeting each forward push back into his body. Two fingers turn to three, and while his walls slowly grow accustomed to the stretch and ache he hasn’t felt in months, another white hot ball of heat sets off in his abdomen, the touch of Kira’s fingers every-so-often pressing _just hard enough_ to tip him ever closer to his orgasm.

_Not yet, not yet, not yet._

“Kira,” he slurs, the press of the other’s hand growing firmer, rougher, and aimed directly at that spot inside him now. “I - Gonna come. Gotta - Gotta stop. Gotta -”

“No,” and Z’ahzi _whimpers_ at the order, the other’s command laced with an authority he only briefly remembers as Nunh. “You’ll come for me, like this. You’ll come for me like the good boy you are, with only my fingers, and after you finish you’ll do it again. I’ll _make_ you do it again. So go on, Z’ahzi, make yourself a mess for me.”

His head lolls, frantic and sluggish; a juxtaposition of the too much but not enough his body wails about. It’s etched into the sweat on his temples, the bruises on his neck glittering in the light as if adornments of onyx, amethyst, jade. Kira sees nothing wrong, doesn’t deign to stop the punishing, bruising pace of his fingers. If anything, he crooks them with a purpose, the glint in his eyes devilish with greed, hunger. Z’ahzi whines, hips rolling again and again and again and fuck, does he want to be a good boy for him? Does he want to come? 

Does he want Kira to _make_ him come?

The answer was always _yes, absolutely yes._

The muscles of his abdomen, his thighs, grow taut, clenching tight as the thin coil finally snaps, threads fraying with the weight of his pleasure. Z’ahzi shakes through it, walls unwilling to let the other man’s fingers leave, pulling them in as deep as he can as they teasingly scrape against him. His cock pulses, twitches against his skin as it empties, balls drawn up tight as streaks of pearly white add to the mess decorating his body. It’s endless, the heat that races up and down his spine, the sudden pressure now gone as the world spins, tiny mewls dying off into airy, breathy gasps as he’s all but milked dry. Z’ahzi has no idea how long he’s suspended in that drawn-out bliss, finally collapsing to the sheets in a haze, barely present and feeling as if he were looking at himself from the outside, watching as Kira slowly, steadily, uses his other hand to stroke up and down his heaving sides.

There’s a ringing in his ears. It’s only after it dies down does he hear himself.

“Kir- _ahhh,_ Kir-Kira, _fuh_ ,.. Kir- _uhh._ ”

Everything feels heavy, weighed down by the molasses-like warmth that seeps into every corner of his being. Lids struggle from falling, and Z’ahzi gives a half-hearted moan of discontent, feeling the aftershocks wrack through his frame as muscles tighten and release, over and over again until, eventually, it all quiets into a gentle, softened wave.

Until, that is, Kira presses against him again.

“Kir- _a-a-a-ah,_ ” the blonde whines. It’s airy, half gasped and half choked back as voice dies on his tongue, walls clenching around the three fingers inside him without knowing if he wants them gone or deeper, the sharp pleasure-pain of an ache he hasn’t felt in years creeping up with each brush of the other’s pads. “S’enough. Can’t.”

The other Miqo’te growls something Z’ahzi can’t quite hear, long strands of his pink hair falling in bouncy rivulets. Time slows to a crawl, and though the languid heat curling through his body grows with every stretch, every press, his eyes are drawn irrevocably to Kira’s broad shoulders. He lets himself look, really look this time, and feels his spent cock jump valiantly in response to the sight of flexing biceps, sweat glistening like diamonds across battle-scarred skin. He’s, fuck, he’s big, and the notion from before about how small he really is in comparison draws out another dribble of cum and a punched out wheeze of a moan.

_That_ gets Kira’s attention.

“You,” he starts, eyes a little wider than before as he takes in the scene, watching rapt as Z’ahzi’s cock, half-hard, vy for his attention. Z’ahzi lays still, breathless whimpers and mumbled words without any real meaning spewing from his swollen, reddened lips. For good measure, Kira presses inside once more, hissing at the tight drag of the blonde’s walls and snarling in response to the loud, whined-out plea that sounds far too similar to _more!_

The moment he pulls back leaving Z’ahzi’s hole empty and wanting, the other Miqo’te wraps his tail around Kira’s forearm, curling tight and unforgiving as another wordless sob breaks free. He wants it so bad, wants those fingers back inside him and fucking into him without pause. He wants, Gods he _wants,_ for Kira to force that pleasure again, to give him everything he wants but can’t ask for. Kira reads him better than any book and for once he’s willing to lay it all out for him. Him, and no one else.

“Please.”

Z’ahzi blinks, not registering what he’s just said. He looks finished and spent, covered in slick and cum and bruises to wear for the next week. Yet Kira, pupils larger than he’s ever seen them, pays his exhausted body no mind. Z’ahzi doesn’t, either, if the tilt of his hips is any indicator, voice cracking on another squeak. He should, really. Should back out, say no more, maybe offer a tired hand to help finish what he’s started. Instead, he blinks through the haze, lips parted and throat aching as he wordlessly, silently, asks for more. To _keep going._

Kira swallows, hard, the bob of his throat easy to follow. Yet his brows pinch forward, the arm Z’ahzi’s tail wraps around pulling from his grip and moving to curl around the base of his cock. Something inside him snaps again, eyes closing as he bares his neck, the halo of his blonde hair behind him fanning outwards, the soft strands of it barely touching his skin. Its submission in its basest form, stripped of any voice or thoughts. Kira’s in charge. Kira will take care of him. Kira will make him feel good.

And he wants to make Kira feel good, too.

He’s his. At this moment, he wants nothing more than that.

_Do it,_ he says, arms at the sides of his head, spread out in an obscene gesture of trust. _Fuck me._

The first press of the other’s cock inside him draws out a half-pained moan, low and guttural in the back of his throat. Yet just like before, Kira doesn’t stop, easing himself inside with barely a hitch, the roll of his hips smooth and even. The stretch is pushed aside for the sensation of being filled, his walls accommodating Kira’s girth easily, greedily. He’s big, fuck, he’s _big_ and Z’ahzi whines as he keeps going, keeps filling up that empty space inside him until, finally, he meets the back of his thighs, bottoming out entirely.

Words are hard to form around the hiccuping sobs Z’ahzi can’t help but choke out, and Kira doesn’t seem better off. His shoulders, Z’ahzi notes as golden eyes flit open, shake as his roughened palms cup the edge of his hips, grip tight and sure as if he were grounding himself against the pleasure. The notion has his blood singing, feet planting against the sheets in order to roll back against Kira’s cock, hips moving in stuttered movements in a desperate bid for more. Kira snarls, sharp teeth on display, and quickly straightens, strong arms shifting to hook under the blonde’s knees and pulling, yanking him closer and forcing heels to lock behind his back. Z’ahzi keens, the angle forcing Kira deeper inside him, and a delirious thought pops into his head as a hand sneaks between them, bypassing his aching, swollen and dripping cock to press against his abdomen, feeling the muscles there clench and oh, fuck -

“Can feel you.” Z’ahzi slurs, the words shaky on each breathless syllable. “Feel you _n’side_ me.”

“Good,” Kira starts, and the word comes out strangled, darker - rough like gravel. “That means you’re mine.”

_Yours._

Kira’s first thrust feels as if the desert Z’ahzi grew up in was nothing short of a slightly humid day, the heat in comparison that flows through him cloying and sweet. It’s only after that first experimental roll does Kira snap forward, hands returning once again to Z’ahzi’s smaller waist and tilting upwards, thrusting without care as each motion ends with a sharp, resounding smack. Z’ahzi, as small as he is, slides against the sheets on every push inside, dry and cracked lips forming around breathless, pitched gasps, skin oversensitive to even the slightest movements. There isn’t any build-up here, no slow adjustments that lead into a blossoming ache and need to come. Rather, there’s a desperation they both share, one giving into the other in a never ending cycle of _yes, more, please, right there!_

There are tears at the corners of Z’ahzi’s eyes, clinging to his eyelashes. He’s never cried like this before, never felt the overwhelming pressure in his stomach flip and jump at every touch, never felt the warmth that’s long since turned blistering a Kira fucks into him, replacing every thought with the need to come again. Z’ahzi doesn’t feel like he can, doesn’t know if his raw and split-open body can even manage it. They’ve been here for so long, Z’ahzi suspended in this hazy, liquid-like pleasure-pain while Kira wrings out every noise, every twitch, every Godsdamn spark that sends the blonde’s walls spasming around his thick cock, the hand on his abdomen pressing hard, _harder_ against the shape of Kira inside him, _claiming him._

“Kir ... _guh,_ fuck, ‘m gonna come.” Z’ahzi’s brows pinch, furrowing down across his eyes as his head tilts back, free hand reaching outwards to scrape shortened nails across the other’s skin, wherever he can touch. His arm, his chest, his neck. He needs something to ground him, something to keep him there before the edge of his orgasm sends him flying, mind foggy. “Need you t’come ‘nside me, too.”

_Ah, ah, ah._ Kira’s pace falters for a moment before quickly shifting, thrusts turning shallow as he all but jackhammers inside. Z’ahzi’s hand spasms, left hanging between them before curling back into the sheets, ass clenching greedily around the other man as his peak rushes rapidly to meet him. _Ah, ah, ah. Gods,_ he wishes he could turn his head, could bite onto something to stop the embarrassing little moans from spilling from his lips. He’s _so close,_ that coil inside him burning brighter than ever before and he _can’t,_ there’s nothing left of him to give, but oh, _Gods,_ he’s going to - to -

A shout, sharp and keened, and that thread snaps, white blinding even behind closed eyes. This time, it feels endless, the suspension he’d been feeling for so long suddenly gone. It’s replaced by a sense of weightlessness, body raw and sensitive to even the slightest touch as his cock pulses, empty, against him. He barely notices Kira stilling, hands slamming themselves against the sheets near his head as mouth attaches itself to the mottled side of his neck, sinking into whatever skin it can find. Each nip, each bite, draws a pitiful, wavering keen from Z’ahzi, the sounds slowly morphing into the other’s name.

_Kira, Kira, Kira._

It’s only when he pulls out does Z’ahzi feel the rush of cum inside him, spilling from his loose hole and splattering against his thighs. It's then that his body finally gives up, black spots dancing at the corner of his vision. It’s then, too, that the aches and pains finally begin to settle in, fading into his consciousness just as languidly as they had been forgotten.

The last thing he feels are Kira’s hands, rubbing at the mess of his cum staining the backs of Z’ahzi’s thighs. He slides it upwards, eagerly pressing it into his skin as if to mark him from the inside and out, the scent of their coupling clinging to them both. 

“Stay right there,” Kira says, and Gods his voice is cracked just like his own. “I’ll get you cleaned up in a moment.”

_Cleaned up,_ Z’ahzi thinks, the notion processing a little late. What if he doesn’t want to be?

A chuckle, soft yet dangerous all the same. “Then we’ll have to make you a mess again.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you all for reading! this was a 'ych' for a friend of mine on twitter! 
> 
> if you enjoyed this piece, you can find more of xiv rambles and/or my work on my twitter @valistheas
> 
> if you'd like to support my work, you can do so with my tip-jar located on my twitter in the first reply to my pinned tweet!
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are appreciated! and i hope you lovelies have a wonderful day! thank you! and happy new years! this will be my last fic of 2020!


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